


Cruising the Course of Fate

by Lomonaaeren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1372108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony Goldstein knows that he is destined to be Harry Potter’s boyfriend because it is <i>fated</i>. And Draco Malfoy had just better not get in the way of <i>fate</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruising the Course of Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Cruise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/971263) by [dracogotgame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame). 



> This was really fun to write. I hope you enjoy this, dracogotgame!

The universe had been horribly unfair to Anthony Goldstein from the moment he was born. Really, it was a wonder that anyone could look at him without weeping.

First of all, he had been born into a family that did _not_ have lots of money. His mum was prone to say, when Anthony accused her of poverty, that at least they had clothes to wear and lots of food on the table, and they could afford wands and dress robes for everybody, and he got to go to Hogwarts. She had never managed to answer Anthony’s argument that, if she _really_ loved him, she would have arranged to marry a wizard with a large vault.

Well, she had once tried to say that if she had married someone other than Anthony’s father, Anthony wouldn’t have been born at all, but that was just the kind of weak thing she _would_ say.

Then there was the fact that no one appreciated his artistic talents. Anthony knew he had a glowing soul. In the dark of night, pictures came and danced in his head. Walking down the corridors of Hogwarts, he heard symphonies he hadn’t composed yet, more beautiful than any of the low and commonplace voices around him. Standing in line at the shops, first lines of breathtaking poems came to him.

He had never had the time to write anything down or draw it or play it, but that wasn’t the point. The _point_ was that no one would have appreciated it even if he did, so he might as well keep those beautiful things away from the mass of the great unwashed.

But life had never been more unfair than when Anthony discovered he was gay. Because he had decided that the only way he could make up for the universe being so unfair to him was to date someone who was rich, and there were fewer rich, single, gay wizards than there were rich, single witches looking for a man. 

Anthony had always intended to marry someone he didn’t like and soothe his pain with diamonds. But now he had to look around for a man to pamper him, and there just didn’t seem to be lots of them.

Then Harry Potter came out, and Anthony knew that the universe was sorry for the way it had treated him. There was Harry, looking so lonely, and Anthony could smile at him easily. Harry shone, he really did. Part of it was the reflected shine of his Galleons from behind him, but Anthony could easily admit the rest was just the light in his eyes. It was more than he had ever been able to admit about anyone before. He knew what that meant. He was in love.

And sometimes Harry was unfair to him and didn’t listen to him, but he let Anthony spend money whenever he wanted, and he didn’t get in his way, and he listened most of the time, and now he was taking Anthony on a romantic holiday on a cruise ship. Life couldn’t be better, it really couldn’t. This was fate. This was the gift Anthony deserved for suffering all his life, for being a victim of bad decisions that other people had made. And if someone tried to get in the way, like one of Harry’s friends who Anthony knew disapproved of him because they were so unfair…

Well, they just shouldn’t, that was all, Anthony decided firmly. You couldn’t stop fate. And Anthony intended to help fate along.

*

“Harry, this is _brilliant_!”

Anthony really did mean that. The ocean spread around them as the boat pulled out, and the waves leaped around them, and the sun did its shiny stuff on the foam. It was really, really pretty. And there were plenty of shops on the ship to make up for when nature inevitably got boring.

Of course, Harry hadn’t combed his hair, as usual, and smelled a little like sweat and moldy socks, as usual. But one couldn’t have everything.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this together,” Anthony went on, and turned melting eyes on Harry—a melting gaze he maybe didn’t deserve, but Anthony was going to be tolerant, he had _pledged_ himself to be tolerant. “I’ve been meaning for us to take a vacation for _months_ now.”

Harry just smiled and shook his head a little. He did that all the time, Anthony thought, taking for granted something that Anthony would have killed for. But on the other hand, he had the money and the fame. He didn’t understand how _hard_ life was for someone the universe hated.

As long as Harry was willing to share the money and let Anthony benefit from the fame, though, that was all right.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Harry muttered, and he sounded like _he_ wasn’t, as usual. Anthony had to stop himself from shaking his head sadly. Harry didn’t know how to enjoy all the money and the benefits that his position brought him. It was a good thing that Anthony was here to teach him how. He could do some more of it right now.

“Let’s go take a look around,” he said, and pulled gently at Harry’s arm. Harry followed him like a bad-tempered puppy on a leash.

And he kept looking that way while they went through the most fabulous casino that Anthony had ever laid eyes on, full of people laughing and losing money and having fun; through the shops, full of expensive things and chances to have fun; through the gym, which Anthony had to admit didn’t look like much fun, but people were building up their bodies so they could eat lots of rich food and have fun later; and the pool, with warm water where Anthony would have liked to swim. But Harry wasn’t much of a swimmer. They kept moving.

Anthony was starving, finally, but he suffered a shock to his system when Harry suggested that they go and get _buffet_ food. He was afraid that he let some of the shock escape when he spoke. Well, why not? Harry should know what was due Anthony even if he didn’t know what was due his own position.

“ _That_ cheap fare?” he said, with the kind of authority that came from having to work for your social position instead of being born to it. “No, we’ll go to one of those ritzy places on the upper deck. I’m in the mood for filet mignon.”

Harry didn’t look enthusiastic. Anthony was starting to wonder if this cruise would be more work than he’d expected. Then again, there was no _helping_ some people.

At least the meal was good. 

*

That meal was the high point of Anthony’s day, really. There was the meditation center and the spa, but Harry wouldn’t stop squirming just as Anthony was about to achieve his point of higher consciousness, and that meant Anthony always got tipped back into his body, which meant he had to listen to Harry sigh.

One of the reasons Anthony had been thrilled when Harry wanted to date him was because he had thought Harry would be a _calm_ person. Why _wouldn’t_ he, really? He had survived a war. He ought to value peace and quiet. But instead, he was so fidgety, it was like being with a toddler who had to use the loo all the time.

Since one of the few benefits that Anthony thought being gay had was that he didn’t have to have toddlers if he didn’t want them, it was a downside.

And now Harry wanted to see this stupid comedy act, and he even resisted Anthony making his irresistible face at him and running his hand down Harry’s chest. Anthony didn’t like the chairs they were sitting in, and he didn’t like comedy. It was never as hilarious as the things that he made up in his head.

Then the crowd rudely started applauding, interrupting him when he was about to tell Harry how important not seeing this comedy act was to him. Anthony scowled and folded his arms, darting his eyes around. But the room was darkening, and he couldn’t see who had cast the spell that had told the crowd it was time to applaud. 

For that matter, Anthony had to admit that he hadn’t seen one of his personal enemies or the people who had wronged him on the ship all day. So maybe there was no one here who wanted to interrupt him, and it was really just a coincidence.

_But a bloody inconvenient one_.

Then the comic pranced onto the stage, and Anthony had to look at him, because he was wearing clothes that he had no business wearing. Really. Clothes that were _far_ too expensive for him. Anthony didn’t know what stand-up comedians on cruise ships made, but he knew that these clothes were too expensive for that wage.

Then he saw the blond hair and the cut of the man’s features, and he ignored the first lame joke to stiffen in outrage.

It was _Draco Malfoy_. One of the people whom Anthony had once watched, in case he turned out to be gay, because it was a well-known fact that he was rich. And then he’d had the bad taste to be on the wrong side of the war, and then he had _vanished_. 

Anthony had been wrong. One of his personal enemies was here after all, and it didn’t matter that he had never been around to hear Anthony declare his vendetta, they were enemies all the same.

On the other hand, it did seem weird that it would be Malfoy up there. The rich, cowardly ponce Anthony remembered had no sense of humor. So he asked.

“Is he…”

“Yes,” Harry said.

Anthony turned to him, mouth open in outrage. _Harry_ was interrupting him now! The nerve!

But he quickly saw that it would do no good to complain. Harry was leaning forwards and not looking away from Malfoy, as if he _liked_ the bastard. He raked him head to foot with his eyes, more than once. Anthony saw. He was never wrong about these things. 

Well, Harry might not have liked Malfoy at school, but apparently he liked what Malfoy had grown up into. That wouldn’t have bothered Anthony if he had known that Harry really cared about him and wouldn’t stray, but he knew that Harry was just using him for sex and comfort and love. So Anthony fumed, and he ignored the stupid act on the stage. It was the only revenge he could get on Malfoy right now. 

The most infuriating thing was that Malfoy didn’t seem to notice, or care. He just sashayed back and forth on the stage, saying stupid things and making people laugh. Anthony decided that the problem was that the whole _ship_ was suffering from a deficient sense of humor. It was the only thing that made Malfoy get any laughs at all.

He glanced at Harry from the corner of his eye. Harry was smiling, in a way that he was never supposed to do at anyone but Anthony.

“He’s not that funny,” Anthony hissed into Harry’s ear. It was urgent news. Harry might not know it, but he was making a fool and a prick of himself, laughing like this.

Harry gave him a dismissive flap of his hand. Anthony sank a little back in his seat, clutching at his chest.

Harry paid no attention.

Anthony flopped back and scowled at the ceiling. The fake heart attack had always worked before. He wondered if Harry had decided it was a deception, or if Harry had just decided that it was more important to pay attention to Malfoy. Either way, it hurt to know that Harry was so distrusting and shallow.

“And it just keeps getting better and better.”

Anthony blinked. Malfoy was in front of them now, his gaze roaming so slowly over them that Anthony was a little intrigued. He’d never met someone undressing him with their eyes more blatantly. He’d had to tug on and coax Harry until he understood that Anthony was for something more than looking at. Yes, Anthony knew he had a handsome arse, but it wasn’t meant to be admired from _afar._

“Hogwarts boy, am I right?” Malfoy purred. 

Anthony stared, caught a little off-guard. Malfoy had to have recognized him, right? Even if he hadn’t, papers had blared the fact that he was dating Harry all over the wizarding world. So Malfoy had to know the name of Harry Potter’s famous boyfriend.

But on the other hand, that purr in Malfoy’s voice promised new things. Maybe better things, although Anthony didn’t think Malfoy had kept his money after the war.

“Yes,” Anthony said, trying to sound awkward and shy. He thought that Malfoy liked such things. Well, he’d certainly been interested enough in Harry when he acted that way back at Hogwarts, although Anthony doubted that interest was the same kind that Malfoy was showing _him_ now.

“I can tell them from miles away,” Malfoy said, which puzzled Anthony. If he _could_ , why in the world had he asked Anthony that question? “So, what house?”

“R-ravenclaw.” Anthony had to admit that his hands were sweating a little, for real. He hadn’t thought the whole crowd would stare at him like this. Of course, Malfoy had gathered their attention by moving around the stage, but still.

“Sorry?” Malfoy did all but cup a hand by his ear.

“Ravenclaw,” Anthony said. He could sound dignified and loud, too. He recognized he should let Malfoy know that, so he didn’t get frightened off, in case he didn’t like them shy after all.

“No, I heard,” Malfoy said, and his head tilted to the side in a way that made Anthony think he was going to pounce. Well, Anthony was all for that. “I’m just sorry.”

And then…

Then Anthony had to realize that Malfoy had just _made a joke about him._ Had _used him as fodder for his show._

The universe hadn’t hated Anthony since it had ensured that Harry Potter was single and willing to date him. But now it was turning on him again, and Anthony didn’t know why. And when he glanced sideways at Harry, waiting for Harry to lunge out of his chair and defend Anthony’s honor…

Harry was laughing so hard that he had almost slid out of the seat.

Maybe he was laughing at something else Malfoy had said and not about Anthony himself, but Anthony still felt the betrayal, cutting through him just like Harry’s harshness when he wouldn’t buy Anthony the new bracelet he wanted. 

Why was this happening to him? Anthony had been so good. He hadn’t cheated on Harry despite several chances to do so. He hadn’t laughed at him even when Harry did something ridiculous and naïve, like think that Anthony would someday “grow out” of wanting to spend money. Let _Harry_ grow up without it, and see how quickly he wanted to stop spending!

But it had all been for nothing. Anthony wasn’t one to sit back quietly and fume, not anymore. He had been as charitable and forgiving as he could when it came to Harry and his numerous faults, but no more. Harry would feel his wrath.

His _wrath._

*

By the time they got back to the room, though, Anthony had had to reconsider. Harry hadn’t said a word about the way that Malfoy was picking on him, and he had laughed at the rest of Malfoy’s act, too. It was possible, just _possible_ , that he hadn’t realized what was going on, and thought that Malfoy was being sincere with Anthony. Or maybe he had thought that Malfoy was crushing on Anthony, the way Anthon had thought at first, too, and he was keeping quiet because he was jealous and hurt.

Either way, Anthony didn’t attack Harry the way he’d planned on when they arrived back at their room. He was just telling him the truth. “I can’t _believe_ him!” he said, and took an angry turn around the cabin. “The nerve! He was…he was picking on me, Harry!” He made sure to throw the revelation just right, so that it would land on Harry’s head and burst on him like a summer thunderstorm.

Harry bit his lip and looked a little stunned. Anthony relaxed. So the universe was still fair. Harry still loved him.

“So he made a few jokes about you, Anthony. He’s a comedian. That’s what they do.”

Anthony collapsed on the bed. No, the universe had _not_ gone back to being fair. And he had to wonder how much Harry loved him, if he could say something like that.

“Draco Malfoy.” Anthony decided that he couldn’t show Harry how much he was hurt. After all, Harry hadn’t cared when Anthony told him just now. No, he thought it was _funny._ So better to try and redirect Harry towards hating someone he had always hated. “It _was_ him, wasn’t it? What’s a spoilt, little, rich boy like him doing working on a cruise ship anyway?”

Anthony really did want to know. If Malfoy had lost his money, the most likely explanation, then it meant that Anthony had thought about wasting himself on someone _poor,_ someone who had to _work_ for a living. It was a disgrace.

But Harry just stood there with a stupid thoughtful expression on his face, and Anthony realized that he wasn’t going to get an answer, and went on with his efforts to remind Harry of how much he had hated Malfoy. He _had_ , at one point. Anthony just had to make him remember. “A _comedian_ ,” he said. “Talk about _the_ fall from grace.” 

Anthony couldn’t imagine a worse fate than making people laugh for a living, honestly. It was like encouraging a whole room full of people to join the universe in making fun of him.

Then Anthony stiffened. No, he couldn’t think like that. The universe had made up for what it had done by giving him Harry. It was _fate_ that he and Harry were together. Anthony wasn’t going to change his mind on that, in case fate took offense and punished him again.

“There’s nothing wrong with working,” Harry said, ducking his head into folding a shirt as though that would hide his lower-class opinions.

Anyone would think that Harry had grown up deciding that he was going to work for a living. Anthony rolled his eyes. Really, that was the only thing that could explain some of the things he said.

“Well, no,” Anthony said. Of course he would have to say that to soothe Harry’s feelings. “But a comedian? Honestly, Harry, you have to admit that’s just low. _He’s_ the real joke here.”

“Let it go, Anthony. Let’s just get some rest, yeah?” Harry dropped down into the bed as if _he_ was the one who had endured being made fun of.

He hadn’t, though. And Anthony was going to show that he was ready and willing for a go, even if Harry wasn’t. He reached out and slowly slid his hand over Harry’s chest. Harry wasn’t the bulkiest person Anthony had ever been with, but he did well enough with what he had. Not everyone could be Anthony. “Or we could have some real fun,” he said, and lowered his voice seductively.

Harry stiffened. Anthony knew he did. But he said, “I’m knackered, actually. Let’s just get some sleep, okay?”

Anthony pulled back. So now Harry was too good to fuck him? Or be fucked? _That_ was rich coming from someone who didn’t think working for a living was wrong!

So Anthony turned away, so that Harry couldn’t stare at his chest while they slept and drool over it. Let him be denied the sight of the finest chest known to mankind. “Fine,” he said, and he knew it was clear and curt and cold. That was all right. Harry was too stupid for it to have lasting effect. “But I’m just putting it out there. I would _never_ stoop to stand-up comedy to pay my bills. I’d rather starve.” Of course, he wouldn’t now that he had Harry and the universe was finally on his side, but that didn’t affect the sentiment’s beauty.

“You probably would. You’re certainly not funny enough.”

Anthony lay there, pain aching all through him. Not only did Harry not appreciate his own wealth, he thought such a degrading line of work was all right? Anthony was beginning to seriously question fate’s wisdom in placing him with someone like this.

*

The next morning, Anthony knew what he had to do. He had to make Harry understand _exactly_ what he would be losing if he walked out the door that was supposedly opening in front of him, the door that he thought would lead to happiness with Malfoy.

So Anthony curled around himself in the bed, and sniffled a little when Harry asked if he wanted to go to the shops. It hurt to know that Harry would be going there, and perhaps buy himself clothes or jewelry or boots or even a new wand sheath, and Anthony would get nothing, but this was more important. This was about all the _future_ clothes and jewelry and boots and wand sheaths that Anthony could buy if he kept his appointment with fate.

“You go and have fun, Harry,” he murmured, looking down at the blankets and picking at them a little. “I just…want to be alone for a while.”

Harry paused for a second, and Anthony did think that he was going to get his reassurance. But then Harry shrugged at him as if this didn’t matter, and told him that he was going out, and Anthony could come and join him when he was “less distraught.”

Before Anthony could even recover enough to snap at Harry for using a stupid, silly little word like “distraught” when Anthony was _suffering_ , Harry had turned around and walked out the door.

Anthony leaped to his feet and paced back and forth through the room. His face was burning, and he felt as though every single finger on his hands was trembling separately.

He couldn’t _do_ this. Harry, that was. He couldn’t just _turn his back_ on the best opportunity that had ever come along for Anthony, and expect Anthony to take this lying down!

Anthony knew that he hadn’t always been the best boyfriend. He hadn’t always cooed over Harry and asked how Harry felt and run to warm up some soup if Harry indicated that he was in less than perfect health.

But the thing was, he had given Harry _someone to take care of._ Anthony was no fool. If fate set up an arrangement like theirs, it had to be one that both partners benefited from. Anthony didn’t have money to offer Harry. He had beauty, but he knew that would often pale on someone like Harry, who had the most _absurd_ standards, and he had standards, but Harry didn’t seem interested in trying to adopt them. Witness his insistence on still thinking that working for a living was a good idea.

So what Anthony _could_ offer was his helplessness. Harry liked to coo over someone. He had never seemed happier than when he was holding Anthony close to his side and feeding him soup and reading him some amusing story from the newspaper that could make Anthony laugh. That was the sort of thing that happened between them. That was the division of labor in their relationship.

And now Harry was acting as though nothing of that shared history _mattered_ to him.

Anthony sighed. Then he stopped and stared at the wall, nodding a little as a new idea came to him.

Maybe he was refining too much on this. Maybe fate had given him a second chance, to show Harry that Anthony was a fit for him—but in another way.

Harry didn’t want someone to take care of all the time, did he? No, sometimes he wanted Anthony to be independent. He had rolled his eyes enough and muttered about it under his breath when he didn’t think Anthony could hear him.

So Anthony would show him. He would go to the arcade, and spend some of Harry’s money, and that would show Harry that Anthony could put things into their proper perspectives. That was the way it should be. Harry would be eager to come back and sit with Anthony after that.

Smugly, Anthony took some of the Galleons from the little pouch that Harry carried them in, and left the room. The best thing about being Harry Potter’s boyfriend was that he finally had the means to live in the style to which he should be accustomed.

*

_And the worst thing about being Harry Potter’s boyfriend,_ Anthony decided, not that long after, _was trying to cure his wandering eye._

“Harry?” He tried to put all the knowledge, and all the sympathy, and all the outrage, that he could into his voice. Harry was chatting to Malfoy, and he didn’t have any disdain on his face, the way he should when he was talking to someone who was a _comedian_. In fact, he was _smiling!_

Harry knew he was in the wrong, too. He turned around so fast that he nearly stumbled over his feet. Anthony held back a comment. Harry should be the comedian, not Malfoy. He was better at being funny than Malfoy ever managed. Too bad it was unintentional.

“Hey,” Harry said, with much unintelligent blinking. It was just good for him that Anthony wasn’t dating him for his intelligence. “I thought you were back in the room.”

“I went to the arcade for some retail therapy,” said Anthony, beginning step one in his campaign to show Harry how independent he was, and how suited they could be if Harry would only make some _effort_ sometimes.

Malfoy laughed. 

Or he was going to laugh, or he made a sound like it. Really, Anthony didn’t care. The point was that Harry was still standing there as though he was caught between two opposing forces, and he didn’t even have the sense to move over and put an arm around Anthony’s shoulder. There was no helping some people.

“I thought I’d find you and we’d go for lunch,” said Anthony, trying hard to control his temper. Really, he was trying so hard, he was being independent and the decision-maker, even though Harry was the one with money and the only decision Anthony should be making was how to help spend it, and Harry didn’t even look _appreciative_. “I didn’t realize you had _company_.”

Even that didn’t make Harry look properly ashamed of himself. Anthony was starting to wonder if his head was by any chance made of wood.

And Malfoy only looked more amused. So Anthony marched over and touched Harry’s shoulder. It was tense beneath his touch. He knew that Harry didn’t like confrontations. Well, too bad about that. If he had done as he should have and gone with Anthony when he first spoke up, then Anthony wouldn’t have to confront him embarrassingly like this. 

“We should get going, Harry.” Anthony made his voice as sweet as he could. But it became clear that wouldn’t do, either, because Harry only _stood_ there. So Anthony tugged on Harry’s arm, and Harry wavered in place but stood there, like a wooden toy that had lost its string.

(Anthony had had lots of toys like that when he was young. It still made him angry to remember that his mother wouldn’t buy him more expensive toys that had spells cast on them to make them go by themselves, but _would_ buy all this extra medicine for his younger sister when she was sick).

Then Malfoy said, “Actually, Potter was informing me that I may have gone a bit too far last night. My apologies. Drawing the line is not exactly a comedian’s forte.”

He glanced at Harry next, which made Anthony suspect that Malfoy was a little bit afraid of Harry. Well, good. Harry could be protective of those he loved, another reason Anthony had wanted to date him. Sometimes he annoyed people by speaking the truth, and it was good when he had someone around to protect him.

“I hope I didn’t spoil your vacation,” Malfoy murmured then, his eyes lowered, and Anthony understood. He was cowed, but not by Harry. He had finally remembered the misery in Anthony’s eyes last night—and Anthony knew he had a _very_ expressive face—and flinched back from confronting what he had done. It was too little, too late, in a lot of ways, but Anthony didn’t want to make Malfoy think that he was a poor sport, or wouldn’t accept the apology.

“Well, it _was_ very upsetting,” Anthony said slowly, and sniffed to let Malfoy know that he shouldn’t get too cocky just because Anthony was accepting his apology. “But it’s fine…I suppose.” Another gentle reminder to put Malfoy in his place. “No hard feelings.” And then the touch of graciousness that he had learned was indispensable when dealing with pure-bloods.

“I’m sure,” Malfoy said, and there was a sort of smirk on his face that Anthony didn’t like. He found out why when Malfoy spoke his next words. “But I’d feel better if I could make it up to the two of you. Can I offer you a couple of front row seats to the next show? As my guests, of course.” And he was looking back and forth between them as though he assumed that Harry was the one who would make the decision to accept or reject it.

Anthony couldn’t let that misconception stand. “I wasn’t planning to,” he said, and he spoke it loud and clear, just to make sure that anyone else in the area who might think he could intimidate _Harry Potter’s boyfriend_ would know better. “But I suppose we could stop by for a bit.”

Malfoy bowed his head. Anthony relaxed. He had done better with the intimidation job than he thought. “Tonight then,” Malfoy said, and he sounded like he was relieved. “I’ll look for you in the crowd.”

Anthony watched him go, and he was pleased to notice that Malfoy didn’t look back or anything. He ought to know that he wouldn’t find mercy or forgiveness so easily as all that. He was lucky to find as much as Anthony was willing to give.

Harry watched Malfoy go too, and his expression was a little stunned. Anthony slipped his arm into Harry’s, suddenly overcome by a surge of affection. He had _known_ that Harry would come to see things as he should, and put the lowliness of Malfoy’s job in its proper perspective. It took Harry a little while, sometimes, but slow didn’t mean worthless.

“Thanks for telling him off, Harry,” he whispered into Harry’s ear. He thought it was his own expressive face that had made Malfoy reconsider, but no need to hold back and look ungrateful. “He’ll think twice about picking on The Saviour’s boyfriend again.” 

Harry nodded. Anthony was so glad that they were on the same page that he almost skipped back to the cabin. He had new things, and he’d spent some money, and Harry wasn’t even going to whinge tiresomely about how much. That made up for having to spend a little time at that worthless comedy act tonight.

*

Anthony thought that until they got to the act, and he found out that Malfoy had decided to concentrate on _Harry_ instead. He had probably sensed Harry’s dimness and thought he wouldn’t get all those remarks about his hair and his poor taste in clothing. He’d forgotten that Harry had a protective and sympathetic boyfriend of his own near his side.

“The nerve of him!” Anthony entered their room and marched up and down, his hands clasped behind his back. “I can’t _believe_ he pulled such a stunt!”

He paused, waiting for Harry to catch on and realize that Malfoy had been insulting him. But when he turned around, he saw that Harry stood there, a million miles away by the look on his face. Anthony huffed. He hoped that Harry wasn’t thinking about his vaults and the number of Galleons in them. There were some things that just didn’t need to be thought about.

“He was just being… Malfoy,” Harry offered, and in this resigned, dreamy sort of voice that proved he was probably thinking about dinner.

Well, _fuck_ dinner. Anthony enjoyed a good meal as much as anyone, but that was _not_ where Harry’s priorities should be right now. And he wasn’t going to get Harry to realize what had happened by pursuing a course of outrage. Harry never took insults against himself the right way. He had to see that Malfoy had been insulting _Anthony_ before he would do something. 

“He was _flirting_ with you!” said Anthony instead. He considered burying his head in his hands, but he decided that would be too over-the-top. Harry might wake too far from his daze then, and decide something was wrong. “How dare he? I knew that whole apology thing was a trick! He wanted to embarrass me again!”

Actually, thinking about it, that might be true. Attacking Harry was the kind of shit that Anthony expected from Malfoy, but he had had the suspicion more than once that Malfoy was mocking Anthony, because he didn’t have the kind of respect for The Saviour’s boyfriend that he should. 

“He didn’t say a word about you!” 

Anthony came close to narrowing his eyes. Harry sounded defensive, all right, but like the one that he wanted to defend was _Malfoy._

“He certainly went after you though!” Anthony shifted tactics a little. He turned and looked at Harry, ready to open his mouth and argue about how an attack on Harry _was_ an attack on him, given that he and Harry were a couple.

Then he saw it. The shirt. The shirt that Malfoy had been making jokes about. It really _did_ stretch across Harry’s chest in a way that left almost nothing to the imagination.

“You wore that tight shirt on purpose!” Anthony wanted to faint with the realization of the betrayal. How could fate _do_ this to him? “You…you _wanted_ him to do it!”

Instead of acknowledging that Anthony was right and that he would never do such a thing again, Harry burst out laughing.

“And you’re laughing at me!” Anthony knew it was a stupid thing to say, the way that his blush was a stupid thing to have happen to his face, but he couldn’t help it. Harry stood there, and _laughed_ at him! On an evening when Anthony had already suffered humiliation by proxy, and right after an evening when he’d suffered humiliation _directly!_ That wasn’t like the courtly and gentle Gryffindor Anthony had thought he was dating!

“Of course I am. You’re being ridiculous.” Harry sounded like he was calm, despite the laughter still in the back of his voice. “I can’t believe you actually think that, Anthony. That’s a whole new level of stupid.”

“So now I’m stupid?” Anthony could feel the sadness spiraling through him, the _endless_ sadness, the sadness that was soaking him and making his lips tighten and his eyes get sore and…

He started crying. It was as sudden as Harry’s laughter, but it was a lot more excusable. Anthony was the one who had thought that he’d found happiness at last, only to be _cruelly cheated_ of it. 

_Inexcusably_ cheated. What did Harry see in Malfoy, that made him want to be so nice to someone who’d tried to _kill_ him at Hogwarts?

“Oh come on, Anthony. I didn’t mean it like—” Harry was saying, with the kind of groan that Anthony’s mum had always used, when she wanted him to do something he didn’t want to do.

“Stop crying, please? Come on Anthony, it’s really not that big a deal.” Harry was touching his shoulder.

Anthony could feel the difference, though. Harry usually touched him with love, and he wasn’t doing _that_ right now. _I bet he could do it if it was Malfoy,_ Anthony thought with justified hatred.

It was just horrible. This was the cruise that was supposed to tie him and Harry together as a couple forever and show people—like that Ron Weasley, who disliked him, Anthony _knew_ he did—and didn’t think that Anthony deserved this happiness that it was actually fate that he and Harry were together. And it was all going _wrong._

“It is!” Anthony knew he probably shouldn’t stamp his foot, but it was all Harry’s fault, anyway. “That…that _Malfoy_ is flirting with _my_ boyfriend and he’s making fun of me and…and it’s just horrible! I hate this stupid cruise and I want to go home!”

That should have brought Harry around. It would, if this was fate. If it was _before_ the cruise, when Harry had clearly still loved him.

But Harry backed off, with a tooth-grinding noise that Anthony was familiar with. Anthony glared at him around his hands, and Harry looked him in the face and said the words that destroyed it all.

“You’re being an idiot. And you need to learn to take a damn joke.”

Pain. Sorrow. Horror. It wasn’t going to work out after all, and that meant Anthony would _never_ date someone with a large bank vault. 

So that meant it was imperative that he spend as much as possible, before Harry took access to the vaults away from him. And he had to distract him with a little emotional flurry, or Harry might get suspicious.

“Well, if that’s the way you feel then fine!” Anthony thought the way he bounded away from Harry had a grand dramatic flair. “I’ll just go drown my sorrows by myself! Have fun on this stupid cruise with Malfoy!”

He ran off, making sure that he had enough Galleons in his pouch to satisfy him for the rest of the day. Who knew but that Harry would owl Gringotts and get him cut out of the vaults as soon as possible? But he couldn’t do anything about Galleons already out of the bank that he’d freely given to Anthony.

Besides, there was a new pair of dragonhide boots, polished to perfection, that Anthony had been eying. It would be a travesty if he didn’t get to buy _them_.

*

The days went by, and Harry still did not cut off Anthony’s access to his money. Anthony was cautiously optimistic. Maybe that meant they would still stay together even when they returned to dry land.

Or maybe it was all down to Anthony’s virtuoso performance. He knew that Harry groaned when he started crying, and groaned when he ran off to the arcade, and groaned when he looked at Harry tragically and then looked away at the wall. But the thing was, that just proved how good an actor Anthony was. The groans were signs of distress—distress at causing Anthony distress. Anthony knew what a soft heart Harry had. It was one of the things that made him a perfect target.

Maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe Malfoy hadn’t come along and ruined it all. Maybe Anthony could slowly forgive Harry once they were back on land, and make him see that he wasn’t going to get anything permanent out of Malfoy except a few laughs. Whereas Anthony could give him someone to spend time with and lavish gifts on. That was the sort of thing Harry _needed_. A person he could _be_ with, not someone who made him laugh. How long could laughter last? You made a little hiccoughing sound and it was over. Whereas a good crying session could last half an hour.

It wasn’t the perfect situation, and Anthony was still far from enjoying the cruise, but at least it hadn’t gone completely to hell, either.

And it didn’t, until the day that he caught Harry _drinking_ with Malfoy.

*

Not only drinking together, _staring into each other’s eyes._

Anthony _knew_ that look. He had seen it on Harry’s face for about two days when they had first started dating. Then Harry had started acting like he was only there to do Anthony a favor, and it had vanished.

_Maybe I should have been calling him a stupid arse and joking about his tight shirt all along, then!_ Anthony fumed to himself.

He must have made some sound without realizing it, because Harry jumped around like his hair was on fire. No, actually, he would probably care more about his hair than Anthony at this point. Anthony’s eyes felt too big for his face, and his cheeks hurt from the blush.

“Anthony, I…” Harry began, in that tone that meant a stupid excuse was forthcoming.

There was nothing to be gained by staying here, Anthony knew. _Nothing._ Malfoy had a strange look in his eyes right now that wasn’t exactly mocking, but it would turn that way any second, and there was nothing Anthony could do to make Harry take his side, not when Harry preferred someone who mocked him and his boyfriend instead of loving him.

“Don’t say _anything_!” Anthony cried out, and began to run.

He didn’t know how long he ran, how many people he brushed past and how many curious looks he got and how many of his prizes he nearly lost out of his bag, before he reached their room and could slam and lock the door. Harry knew charms that could open all the Locking Charms Anthony put on the door, but it made him feel better anyway.

Then he feverishly paced back and forth, wondering what to do next. He still had a good amount of Harry’s Galleons unspent, but he didn’t know how to get off the ship. They weren’t close enough to any place he knew to Apparate, and of course there were no Floo points, and he had no broom or Portkey. Should he just wait until the next time they came to a port, and disembark there?

Then Anthony paused, and his head came up.

Why should _he_ be the one to leave? _Harry_ was the one who had fucked up, making it clear how much he would rather spend time with a mocking blond arse than someone who actually cared about him for his most important traits. 

No, Anthony would stay here. He would spend as much money as he liked, and he would keep some in reserve so that he had a way off the ship at the next port if necessary. Harry would have to watch his wounded dignity and his spending and know that there was no way he would get to participate in _either one_.

That was just the way it was going to be.

*

Anthony stalked through the streets of Barcelona towards the ship. He had seen Harry and Malfoy leave the ship together, and he didn’t _understand_. Things had been going so well. Harry hadn’t tried to speak to him. He hadn’t tried to interfere with Anthony going to the arcade, and Anthony didn’t think he’d seen Malfoy again. He’d had all sorts of little spy spells on Harry in case he tried to leave the room for too long, but they hadn’t been necessary. Harry seemed to be in the center of a chastened, sulking, brooding mood, and if he didn’t realize how unattractive it made him look, that was not _Anthony’s_ problem.

But then one of his spy spells had dragged Anthony away from a rapturous contemplation of a pair of lavender robes and to the edge of the ship. Harry and Malfoy had been walking away like old friends, and the expression on Harry’s face as he turned to look at Malfoy was soft and happy, as if he’d never had a fight with Anthony at all.

That was _not right_.

Anthony had neglected to put a tracking spell on Harry, not thinking he’d need it, since the spy spells would tell him if Harry was near Malfoy, so it took him a while to find them. But eventually he got near enough that one of his spy spells started shrilling at him from the corner of Harry’s robes, and he stepped into the middle of a tender scene—shining eyes and tousled hair and all—that made him want to vomit.

He had to interrupt it in the most dramatic way possible, to show Harry the right kind of drama. Not the staring-into-eyes and sighing kind. The kind that showed how they were fated, because Anthony was going to _fight_ for this relationship instead of letting it go.

“ _There_ you are!” Anthony pitched his voice to carry the length of the street. He wanted an audience, an audience who would see and understand what true love was, and make it that little bit easier to pressure Harry.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake!” Malfoy probably thought he was being subtle with the groans, but he couldn’t match Harry.

And Anthony was going to make sure that no one staring at them was neutral about Malfoy, or ignorant about how much he lacked. He joined his voice to a pointing finger. “You…you _boyfriend_ stealer!” 

He could feel the stares from all around him, and he knew he would see supportive nodding of heads if he looked, but he couldn’t take his eyes from Malfoy and Harry. They might run away if he did, like the cowards they were.

“He’s _mine_ , damn you! You’ve been trying to steal him from me ever since we got on this ship! You _stupid_ , blond slag! How dare you…” Anthony was winding up a good head of steam, ready to let everyone watching know what kind of idiot their precious comedian was, when Harry interrupted. 

“For Merlin’s sake, Anthony!” he yelled, and he honestly didn’t act like he _cared_ about the flying spittle that was hitting Anthony’s face. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

Anthony wanted to yell at him about _exactly_ what had got into him, but that would make him look bad, to be accusing Harry too much. This had to stay on Malfoy and how hurt Anthony was by Harry leaving with him, or he might lose the audience’s sympathy.

“I _saw_ you leave with him!” And Anthony was crying again, and he honestly couldn’t help it, not when he thought of all the many, many ways that his relationship with Harry was breaking down. He’d thought it was fated, he really had. Instead, he had to resort to petty manipulations to keep Harry. It was all going wrong, and fate _wasn’t_ on his side.

“We went sightseeing together,” Harry said, sounding like it was all Anthony’s fault. “I was just catching up with an old friend. I’m not cheating on you with Draco, for fucks sake!”

“ _Old friend?_ ” Anthony hissed. That was the end of enough. “ _Draco?_ Harry, I went to the same school. You were never friends with him!” Had Harry forgotten all that? Had Malfoy enchanted him?

_Maybe he enchanted him by wriggling his arse at him. Seems like that’s all it would take._

And Anthony felt another surge of loathing, that he had nearly trusted his heart and his fate to someone so _shallow._  
  
“Well, maybe that’s changed,” Harry said, as if he thought that he would get away with it. “Maybe I want to be his friend!”

“Just say it!” Anthony yelled. If everything was going wrong, he was going to drag Harry down with him, and ruin his reputation in the eyes of everyone watching. “You want to _fuck_ him! You want him more than you want me!”

 _There._ Now Harry would have to put up or shut up, have to admit that he was shallow and obsessed with looks or come back to Anthony and admit that he had been wrong to spend so much time with Malfoy in the first place.

But then _Malfoy_ got involved. And of course everything went to hell.

“Anyone blame him?” Malfoy said, and turned around with his arms spread out like he was some kind of bloody sunflower. “Show of hands!”

The crowd began to laugh. 

Anthony hunched his shoulders. He couldn’t _bear_ this. The laughter kept exploding around him, lifting up and flowing around him as if everyone in sight had decided to be cruel. He was going to throw up.

No, he was going to get rid of _Malfoy_ first. Anthony stood up and pointed at Malfoy again. It had intimidated him before. “I want you to leave!” he spat, and saw Malfoy brush away a few flecks of spittle with pleasure. If anyone was going to spit on this ship, it was going to be _him_. “Get off this ship right now! Or…or I'm going to the management and I’m getting you _fired!”_

Harry glared at him from the side as though it was Malfoy and not his actual _boyfriend_ that he felt sorry for. “You do that and we’re done.”

Anthony knew a moment of fear, but lifted his chin like the brave Ravenclaw he was. Harry hadn’t taken away access to his Galleons so far, so that meant he might not. “You can’t s-stop me! I’m getting him fired if it’s the last thing I…”

“Oh stop your caterwauling, you harpy,” Malfoy said, on what seemed like the verge of rolling his eyes. Anthony would have had to attack him if that happened, so it was just as well that he didn’t. “I’ve had enough. And it just so happens that I don’t want to spend the next four days breathing the same air as you.” 

Anthony held his breath. Was this going to work? Had he really scared Malfoy away, the way he wanted to? 

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re going to have to arrange your own entertainment from now on. I’m jumping ship. Thanks for your time; you’ve been a great audience.” Malfoy bowed to an audience that was gasping for some reason—probably in admiration of Anthony’s bravery and tenacity and desire to fight for his boyfriend; Anthony preened a little—and nodded at Harry. At least he knew that he couldn’t have him now. Then he left the ship.

Harry, of course, couldn’t let it go at that, and rushed over to the railing. Anthony took a step after him, but froze as Harry called out.

“Draco!” 

_He never said my name that way._

“Get back on this ship!” Harry made a little pounding motion with his fist, like he could Summon Malfoy from a distance to do just that. Anthony sneered, although he had to admit it was half-hearted over the pounding of his pulse as he thought of those unspent Galleons. Didn’t he know that Summoning Charms didn’t work that way?

“You get off!” Malfoy yelled. Which made Anthony flush again. Because they were flirting _right in front of him._

“Draco, this isn’t funny! Don’t _do_ this!” Harry shouted, and pounded his fists uselessly on the railings. Anthony repressed the impulse to tell him that brass didn’t dent that easily, either. “Get back here! I’m not leaving without you!”

 _He would sail without_ me _without a second thought…_

“Apparently you are,” Malfoy said. The horn blew, and Anthony swallowed. That would mean Malfoy couldn’t say anything else. Anything that Harry would hear, anyway. Now was Anthony’s chance to repair the breach, and win his rich wizard. 

“Draco, no!” Harry shouted. “Come back!” 

That was so stupid that Anthony had to pause just a moment, and contemplate whether he really wanted to be with someone who stood on a ship and talked that way to someone standing on shore. And who thought that being a comedian was a _real_ job.

Malfoy laughed, sounding as clear as though he stood on the deck. That was an unfair trick, too, Anthony decided. Probably came from projecting his voice, training he had learned for his _common_ job. Why couldn’t Harry see how common he was? Anything he wanted from Malfoy, Anthony could give him, Anything Malfoy could do, Anthony could do better. Even mocking Harry. If that was what Harry wanted, Anthony could be _good_ at that. 

“If you want me, then you’re going to have to do something about it Potter!” Malfoy called. “And fast!”

“I can’t,” Harry said, and there was that groaning again. Anthony had thought that groaning reserved for _him_.

“ _Get back here right now!_ ” Anthony decided that dignity was useless. Harry wasn’t listening to him, and he might stand there and stare stupidly at the shore until they were out to sea again. Maybe all night. That was how stupid Harry was.

“He should’ve picked the blond. _I_ would've picked the blond...” Anthony heard someone say. He bristled a little. He knew that his hair was sandy blond in the right light, but he also knew that the person wasn’t talking about him, because Harry had chosen him by staying on the ship. He tried to stop screaming. He had to remember that Harry was _here,_ not on shore with Malfoy.

“Well, It’s too late now _..._ ” someone else said, and Anthony nodded vigorously. It was. Harry just needed to see that. 

Then Harry turned around. Anthony relaxed a little. Yes, stopping the screaming had been a good choice. Harry was coming back to him now.

“Enjoy the rest of the cruise,” Harry announced. “We’re through.”

And then he jumped _over the side of the ship_. Without even going back to the room to get his things. Without even saying goodbye to Anthony.

Without trying to take his money away.

Anthony turned and ran as hard as he could for the room. His mind was clear now. He knew what fate had meant for him. He knew what he wanted, the way that Harry knew he wanted Malfoy. 

He wanted Harry’s money. And there were a bunch of Galleons in Harry’s room. And they were still close enough to the shore that Anthony could Apparate to a wonderful little shop he remembered from this afternoon.

In the end, everything that glittered was _not_ gold. Only Galleons had a shine that you could trust.

Anthony smiled. _Maybe that’ll be the title of my memoir._

After all, other people could use a book that taught them how to deal with the vagaries of the fate, and recognize yours when it chose you.

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Leave your comment for the author here or on [Livejournal](http://hd-remix.livejournal.com/68774.html). ♥


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